Then I'm afraid the fever has reached your brain and you'll have to be destroyed.

I've caught something that's been going around and I have now given it to my husband. I'm not talking about the stomach bug that's been causing major barfage--though, I may have that as well.

This is much more serious. It's epidemic that inevitably keeps society going and growing. I've got the fever people! Baby Fever.

From a statistical standpoint, it was an inevitability. I first contracted it back in 2006 after being exposed to Meredith's first round. Once you've had the fever, you're far more likely to develop symptoms in the future--especially after being in close contact of mothers with multiple or small children.

There is no set "cure" for Baby Fever. After the initial exposure, the fever will either burn itself out or develop into a much more serious condition which eventually leads to the removal of a large growth from the uterus.

Luckily, there are precautions that can be taken to prevent the growth from gestating often known in common vernacular as "birth control." It will not treat the fever, but does give the affected patient time to assess the sickness and prepare for the onset of symptoms.

Symptoms that develop in Stage 1: Pre-growth Fever

uncontrollable verbal skills near infants that cause the patient to involuntarily say "awwww," sporadic bouts of crying near children, young and fluffy animals, and Pampers commercials, illusions of grandeur that allow the affected to believe they can withstand extended periods of time without sleep, a compelling need to spread the fever to your significant other

Symptoms that develop in Stage 2: Growth Inutero

extreme irritability, incessable hunger leading to the expulsion of the patient from all-you-can-eat buffets, vomitus maximus, back pain, knee pain, foot pain, neck pain, vagina pain, a magnetic force around your belly that pulls in old ladies to touch it, sensitivity to stupid people


And those are just the ailments that occur in women who contract Baby Fever. So what happens when men, like Dominic, are affected? They gain 20 lbs. after sympathetically craving sushi and ribs for 9 months.

We haven't moved from Stage 1 yet, so with some home remedy treatments (exposing ourselves to ill-mannered, screaming toddlers and taking vacations without children) we might beat this thing before it becomes much more serious.

Today's subject line quote is Daria, "Daria" (1997) {The Teachings of Don Jake (#1.12)}.

This is a bar. You want conversation, go to a Starbucks.

I feel better.

Dom took me to get some New York style pizza last night for dinner and it helped me unwind a little. I found the ziplock full of my makeup in the back pouch of the diaper bag and managed to salvage my hairstyle with a knitted headband, so I didn't feel so trashy going out.

We laughed about the lousy day we both had and it was nice. Though Dom didn't have to save a toddler from a gigantic ant hill, he did have 4 shots of espresso for breakfast and was still reeling from it in the car after dinner. Being the java junkie that I am, just talking about it made me ask him stop at Starbucks to let me go in and get a latte.

And here's the part of my night when a barista confused me with his social ineptitude.

I think he must have interpreted my need for coffee and knitted headband-metallic purse look as someone who throws "The Hills" watch parties because he kept making assumptions about how I'm not appreciating my day enough.

First off he was one of those bubbly, service industry guys that feels particularly safe fortified behind the counter. I say this, because he wasn't even the one taking my order but still felt obligated to say,

"So one of everything on the menu right?"
"No. Not quite."
"Oh, just half then."

I smiled at his attempt, because friendliness is a rare and precious thing to me. Strangers are often stiff and uncomfortable, and it's unfortunate to not be yourself around the majority of society. My smiling demeanor usually goes unnoticed in public. If I try to coax a pleasant interaction out of someone behind a counter, 99% of the time it ends with them looking up and away while telling me a total.

The one time I go somewhere with an I had a bad day countenance, and Super Barista thinks it is his personal quest to figure me out.

"You look tired." I immediately shot back an "I am," with an implied you dumbass attached. Good thing I don't have that condition where you can't filter your thoughts from what you actually say because I was thinking, You work at a coffee shop, shouldn't the people coming in either look like zombies or completely wired?

He then proceeded to spill his guts about how it's a nice day and I should go for a walk in the park to make up for him being stuck inside, only to retract it quickly with a "What am I saying, you're probably on your way to work."

I corrected him. Kid, husband, car...coffee? I also really wanted to tell him that this afternoon's romp out in the backyard got me a handfull of antbites while rescuing my 16 month-old, so my appreciation for the outdoors may need some time to recover. I didn't.

Once discovering I was a stay-at-home mom and not fashionista locked in a cubicle all day, he seemed to quit trying to make me have a bigger love for life. Or maybe he was just trying to hit on me the whole time.

So, was he insulting me or hitting on me?

Today's subject line quote is Patrick Hanchin, "The Dead Zone" (2002) {Playing God (#2.11)}.

End of the line leprechaun. So much for the luck of the Irish.

Ever have one of those terrible days when you feel overwhelmed after a 12 hour car trip to visit family for the weekend and having to tend to a baby, dog, and husband the whole way there and back, but then you get home and realize there's 3 suitcases of laundry to do and a basket leftover from before you left, then you run out of diapers but don't want to go out to buy any because you lost your makeup bag somewhere in the car and already let your hair go curly today because you were feeling the ick after traveling all day yesterday but without proper makeup you look more like a homeless person instead of pulling off the wavy chic look, but later have to go anyway because you need to buy children's Benadryl after you and your son were attacked by ants while playing in the back yard, especially when the Irish in you just wants to drink all day and say "fock" instead of "fuck" in honor of St. Patty's Day?

Ever had one of those days? Don't you dare say "yes." I will throw ants at you.

Today's subject line quote is Rose, "American Dragon: Jake Long" (2005) {Professor Rotwood's Thesis (#1.8)}.

Oh, I'm sorry. Now I'll *aks* you again. Where is the mi-cro-wave?

Last night the shopping expedition went much smoother. Dom stayed home with Michael so I didn't have to worry about the munchkin running through the aisles of Hobby Lobby and knocking over the displays of glass decor that fill the center of the store.

I got a birthday present for my dad, but I can't tell you what it is because he sometimes reads this. Hi, Daddy! And I also found a sweet metallic purse. It was the only one left and someone had pulled the tag off. When I asked an associate about the price she said, "Oh, I bought a few of those the other day. I think they were either $11.99 or $19.99." I scrunched up my face when she said it might be 20 bucks and she smiled and said, "Want me to take it up front and tell them it's $11.99?"

Sweet! I got a cheap purse. It's got a lot of room, too. It's this shape,
but this color, and no fake scaley trim either.

It made me wicked happy. And even though I only spent about as much time shopping as the night before, I felt less rushed. That made the whole experience more enjoyable. I even managed to get a portable DVD player for Michael for our upcoming car trip! Yay, I can listen to Elmo for hours instead of a crying toddler. Is that really any better?

The chick that got it out of the display cabinet for me didn't know anything about DVD players or car mounting kits. But she did say she could "Axe someone over dere." I bit my lip so hard, I though it would be bruised this morning. It's not. And I get to tell you all about it. Makes me think that it really will be the proper pronunciation in another 1,000 years. Futurama may be right! Let's just hope none of us accidentally time travel trying to make popcorn and end up our own grandparent.

Today's subject line quote is Leela, "Futurama" (1999) {Roswell that Ends Well (#4.1)}.

I concur. It is unremarkable.

This week has been filled with nonbloggables. Lots of unremarkable things that I must remark on to magically manifest into a decent post.

No. I refuse. Not the post part, you're getting it. But it's not going to be decent...or coherent. Ready?

I'm making a purse out of scrap materials because another henna artist in Ohio does it and it looked like fun. I also look to her website for inspiration with my designs and that's where I buy my dye from. She should be flattered by how much I stalk her via the web, really. But what makes my purse able to kick her purses' asses, is that I am embroidering mine. It's not by hand, but it's certainly not being done with a computer program either. I'm using my sewing machine, but I'm guiding it by hand. And yup, you guessed it...I'm doing a henna design that I probably ripped off from someone over the past 5 years.

I saw Hostile Harriet in the gym locker room again. She just smiled at me and left to go soak in the hot tub. Score!

Liz left me the most awesome voice mail message ever. Too bad you can't hear it. I'm certainly not going to type it out because it looses it's magic without the fluctuation in tone.

Last night, Dom and I planned to go to dinner together and then he would take Michael to the park and let me shop. But by the time we split, I only had an hour and a half to get to the mall, shop, and come pick them up. I sped shopped through Sears and Forever 21 and came out with 4 shirts that look the same.

Any nonbloggables you want to share?

Today's subject line quote is Seven of Nine, "Star Trek: Voyager" (1995) {Bliss (#5.14)}.

P.S. Anybody else super excited about the new Star Trek movie coming out in May?

Stimulating neurons... tampering with people's brainwaves... it just raises too many questions

I have had a miraculous and life-altering epiphany.

Turns out, Breathe Right Nasal Strips really do work. I've always been one of those cynical A-holes that assumed it was all a big load of dookie. My husband's used them off and on for years, but I figured he bought into the propaganda and psyched himself up for a miracle. Because, really, who expects a bandaid strapped to your nose to stretch your nostrils wide enough to breathe better?

Me. That's who.

But since I don't think I snore, there hasn't been much opportunity to give it a whirl. Except last night pollen must have invaded every crevice of my body because my eyes were puffy, I thought my skin was going to fall off from the constant scratching, and my nose was rather useless to me for all the snot occupying it.

Dom gave me one of his glorified bandaids. Of course I had to put it on crooked and waste one because I'm inept like that. But once I figured it all out, I slept great! I didn't wake up with that dry throat and crusty tounge that usually comes from breathing through my mouth for 8 hours. I don't think I even woke up in the middle of the night.

Maybe I need these things every night? Maybe I toss and turn because I do snore? What if I have Apnia like my dad and need to sleep with a machine strapped to my nose that blows air up my nostrils? Does this mean I can have a free nose job? Is this too many questions, like what Val Kilmer said to Jim Carey in Batman Forever that made him go insane and dress in green spandex littered with question marks?

Which is today's subject line quote! Bruce Wayne, "Batman Forever" (1995).

The internet. 95% of it is rubbish.

I have my very own website!

My father-in-law is some sort of domain name guru. He must own half the internet because he throws websites to people like Mardi Gras beads at a parade. He had set us up with www.domdimaggio.com of which I post all of our family pictures but now I have a page of my own namesake.

Unfortunately, I haven't got a clue what to put on it. Currently it still has the white background and default "Welcome to the world of Cassidy Leanne Pond-DiMaggio" that Dom's dad put on before sending me the link. I've put some pictures up of my artwork in the gallery, but nothing on the front page. See what I mean? Here is the gallery I was talking about.

Any ideas on how to format or what to even showcase? I want it to look like a real website, professional. I don't want it to look like a 5th grader put it together for a class project.

Today's subject line quote is Richard Hammond "Brainiac: Science Abuse" (2003) {(#1.6)}.